


I Don't Know What You're On About But Go Ahead, I Love You

by orphan_account



Series: Short Bandom Drabbles [3]
Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Again, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstanding, Synesthesia, brendon is unsure, discussing colors, not sorry, ryan is caring, ryan is pissy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 01:03:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9149905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "The word son is really green, you know?" Brendon mused, tapping his chin. Ryan turned on his seat to face Brendon, a look on his face. "Like springtime-grass green; not summer-tree green. But, daughter is purple. Royal purple. It doesn't match with son's green, which makes no sense to me. I always thought words that go together would have colors that go together. Dad is a blue-green, emphasis on the blue.”Brendon flopped back onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. “And mom is salmon-pink, but more orange than that. It doesn’t make any sense,” Brendon whined. Ryan thought he could hear a hint of nerves and self-consciousness in Brendon’s voice, which confused him but he ignored it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> you know what, i'm not sorry for writing about this. the premise fascinates me and i can actually write about it. who doesn't love some good old ryden fluff???
> 
> now i'm going to work on the 10th chapter of Alone In The Night... :)

It all started when Brendon began musing about words and colors and crap. That's when Ryan knew they were all going to go insane inside their tour bus. Either way, he blamed Brendon. It was always his fault.

 "The word  _son_ is green, you know?" Brendon mused, tapping his chin. Ryan turned on his seat to face Brendon, a  _look_ on his face. "Like springtime-grass green; not summer-tree green. But,  _daughter_ is purple. Royal purple. It doesn't match with son's green, which makes no sense to me. I always thought words that go together would have colors that go together. _Dad_ is a blue-green, emphasis on the blue.”

Brendon flopped back onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. “And _mom_ is salmon-pink, but more orange than that. It doesn’t make any sense,” Brendon whined. Ryan thought he could hear a hint of nerves and self-consciousness in Brendon’s voice, which confused him but he ignored it.

"You're making no sense," Ryan bit out, unfortunately scathing. He turned back to leafing through his book, trying to ignore Brendon pressing up against his side expectantly. 

"Your name is burgundy, like your eye makeup sometimes during shows. It's nice, but, like now, has a darker biting undertow," Brendon said faux-confidently. He skimmed his fingers over Ryan's thigh but Ryan jerked away, nearly tossing his book over the edge of the couch. He let out a sharp sigh and glanced over at Brendon, keeping from rolling his eyes at Brendon.

"Why does this matter? I feel like you're going insane," Ryan asked, shooting another annoyed look at Brendon. Brendon just grinned cheekily, further infuriating Ryan. 

"If you could take note of the colors, you can learn a lot about someone. Spencer's a dark, earthy green. Jon's lighter and brighter, like mid-day sunshine—it’s so different from his singing voice for reasons unknown to me. I'm the color of deep water at night. It's rather poetic, our band's colors. Red, green, yellow, blue. It's nice, provides symmetry." For once, Brendon sounded like he knew what he was talking about. He ran a hand through his emo-style hair, which looked ridiculous on him. (Ryan secretly loved it.)

"Well, okay," Ryan said, for lack of knowing what to say to  _that._ "That's... interesting. I still think you're on drugs, though, seeing colors isn't normal." Brendon shook his head

"I've been able to forever, Ry. It's always been like this. Everyone I met has their... color." Brendon scooted closer to Ryan, almost on his lap. Ryan resisted the urge to shove him off of his lap. 

"Maybe Spencer and Jon would get this better than I do, Brendon." Ryan just wanted to read his book, not hear his loony friend go on about their "colors".

"Maybe they would,” Brendon agreed. “But, I wanted to tell you. Not them. They wouldn't care." Brendon spoke quietly, less confident than before. Ryan picked up on it immediately.

"Neither do I," Ryan replied with a sigh. He felt bad almost immediately when he felt Brendon deflate next to him. "Bren..." he began as he felt Brendon stand up. 

"No, I understand. It's stupid. I'll go bother Spence, okay? If that's what you want. You don't have to hear about this color thing." Ryan could hear the defeat in his tone. As Brendon was moving to leave the room, Ryan dropped his book and stood up. 

"Wait, Brendon, I didn't mean it like that. I... sorry. I'm tired," he called. Brendon turned back around, pursing his lips. Ryan wasn't sure if he was imagining it or not, but he thought he could see tears in Brendon's eyes. 

"Drop it, okay? I know you don't care. It's fine, I swear." It wasn't fine, and Ryan knew that. He crossed the room in two long strides and grabbed Brendon by the shoulders. Yep, he was right. There were tears in Brendon's eyes. His lower lip was quivering, too. 

"Bren, I'm sorry. Tell me about your stupid color thing. Please?" Ryan half-begged, shaking Brendon's shoulders lightly. 

"I know you think I'm crazy. You're the first person I've ever told, you know? I'd be thrown into a mental institution—or worse,  _church—_ because my parents would say I'm being inhabited by the devil.  Also, I know you don't care. It's fine." Brendon moved to break away from Ryan's grip, but he held tight, slowly moving his hands up to wipe away a stray tear. 

"I'm sorry I was being harsh, okay?" Ryan decided to do his one crazy thing for the year: he kissed Brendon. It wasn't much—a chaste press of his dry lips to Brendon's—but it was enough to make Brendon smile.

"Ry-Ryan?" Brendon asked shakily, trying to figure out how the situation went  _there._  "What was—?" Ryan held up his finger to Brendon's lips, a coy smile on his face. 

"We'll talk about that later, as long as I can do it again. Now, please tell me more about the colors?" 

"You're just saying that," Brendon said, a tad defensive and still embarrassed from Ryan kissing him. His face was a bright red. 

"I'm not, I promise," Ryan insisted. He kissed Brendon's forehead gently and guided him back to the couch. He grabbed a blanket and tossed it over their laps. They fit together like a puzzle, Ryan all edges and corners, Brendon soft curves and muscles. "Now, do voices have colors for you?" 

Brendon thought for a second before nodding shyly, a bit of a grin making its way onto his face. 

"What's mine like?" Ryan pressed, moving his book away from his feet so he could curl up closer. He leaned towards Brendon with a half-smile. 

"Well, uh, it's like your name..." Brendon began. Ryan's smile widened as he began to listen to Brendon weave a complex image of colors and figures, just to describe  _him._  He was never more flattered. 


End file.
